


The lesser evil

by NyeLung



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, God!Geralt, I hope, I promise there's gonna be a happy ending cause I'm a softie, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Mousesack knows what's going on, Oblivious Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion, Slow Burn, Tissaia has had enough of Stregobor's bullshit, it's an accident for both of them I swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyeLung/pseuds/NyeLung
Summary: Geralt of Rivia isn't the first mortal to ascend to godhood nor is he the last. He's certainly the one who needs the longest to realize it. Maybe it's because he's not the god of something obvious, visible or at least noble and glamorous – to Jaskier's disappointment. Maybe it's because Geralt isn't a god anyone prays to willingly until they, too, are faced with the hardest of choices.Accidental God Geralt AU
Relationships: Ermion | Mousesack & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Ermion | Mousesack & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 39
Kudos: 119





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FrozenBrownie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenBrownie/gifts).



> Alright, this has been an idea in the back of my head for months and then someone mentioned the Witcher and I was ambushed and it just all flowed out of me and it's not completely done but, in my estimation, it shouldn't be much longer than ten chapters or so.  
> I'm basing this on a mix of book and netflix series canon and some things I picked up here and there. Some stuff will be very series canon, some more book and a good amount will just be headcanon. I'm not even sure if I need to say this here but I'm from the Star Wars fandom and people there put a lot of import on which canon you're writing in.

### Prologue

Geralt of Rivia isn't the first mortal to ascend to godhood nor is he the last. He's certainly the one who needs the longest to realize it. Maybe it's because he's not the god of something obvious, visible or at least noble and glamorous – to Jaskier's disappointment. Maybe it's because Geralt isn't a god anyone prays to willingly until they, too, are faced with the hardest of choices.

Some gods are born of chaos itself, pure beings of magic without much regard or knowledge of mortal matters. They are the storms that rage, the quakes of the land and the scorching sun as well as the darkness between the stars. Some gods are born of the lands, the seas and the skies as magic surges through the land and turns the over abundant life into sentience. They are the ever same and ever changing waves crashing at shores, the winds howling in the distance or the first rays of light after a long winter. Some gods, however, are born from humans. Some gods are born from the dying wish of a cursed princess while bathed in her blood and surrounded by hate and destiny or from the belief that a man who is everywhere can't be mortal or from a sacrifice beyond what a mortal should endure. Some gods are born from chaos, some from the lands, the skies and the seas and some are born from ideas, the weakest and most powerful thing of all.

Geralt of Rivia is born as the god of the lesser evil on the bloodied streets of Blaviken with Renfri's life on his blade and clothes and face, with her last words in his ears and the first flying stone hitting him. He's the god of hard choices and the ruin that follows. He's the god people prefer not to see or invite into their homes. He's the god who didn't believe.


	2. Chapter 1: The first whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first people recognize the new god in the lands.

### Chapter 1 - The first whispers

The elf spat out. "What's two humans in the ground when countless elves have died?" She stared at Geralt and Jaskier with hate far beyond what a living being should hold. Geralt couldn't blame her. Dol Blathanna had been conquered before he had been born but he grew up with elf hunts and refugees on every street. He even had hazy memories of his mother taking in some for a short time.

Toruviel was angry, hurt and sick just like those refugees then, but Geralt couldn't pay much attention to her now. It was Filavandrel, also angry, hurt and sick yet much more experienced, who would have the final say in their fates. So he looked at him with all the understanding he held for the elven king of once. "One human", he emphasized. "And you can let him go." The last Geralt wanted, was for the naive, adventurous but overall innocent bard to die. Fuck's sake, Jaskier was young enough that he thought a song about abortion was funny and would bring him coin.

"Then Posada will learn that we've been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die..." And didn't Geralt know enough about that. "On both sides", Filavandrel added as though an afterthought but it was clearly a threat.

A scoff escaped Geralt's lips as he recalled a situation so similar and yet so different. "The lesser evil. No matter what you choose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." Geralt had learnt that lesson years ago on the streets of Blaviken. "And you must choose because not choosing is also a choice and it's just as bad as the other options."

Filavandrel eyed him with... Geralt wasn't sure what stood in the elf king's eyes. Confusion, resignation, pain. None of those, all of those and more. "That's the problem. I can't and I can't cannot either." He pulled out a dagger. If it wasn't aimed at his throat, Geralt would have appreciated the craftsmanship gone into it. "I'm sorry, but this is necessary."

There was a heavy, sinking feeling in Geralt's stomach. It wasn't the fear of death, although that, too, was present. No, something was fundamentally wrong as though chaos itself was changing and twisting around this moment. Choices, choices, it echoed in his head. "This is your choice then?", Geralt spoke to distract himself from the coil of dread around his heart. "You have to understand that it won't be long before you follow me in death."

"What else could I do? The pushed us from viable soil and now we can starve and die or fight and die", the elf king yelled. "Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic."

Geralt narrowed his eyes. "Chaos is the same as it's always been. It's always changing, that's why it is chaos. Humans just adapted better."

This time it was Filavandrel who scoffed. "You say adapt and I say destroy."

Geralt shrugged his shoulders. "That's also chaos. Chaos is change and change is destruction." Of course, Geralt wasn't an expert in matters of magic but he thought that the elves who were far more attuned to magic and chaos would know this rather than him. "From what I see, you are choosing to starve. You're cutting off your ear to spite your face."

"You think this is about pride?", Filavandrel flared up in a rage. One unreadable gaze at Geralt and he turned somber again. "You know that my elders worked with humans and we got robbed. When we fought back, we were slaughtered. The Great Cleansing." He scoffed. "They dug a mass grave for everyone I loved and call it the valley of plenty as our babies are fertilizer for their grain."

Geralt could feel the bard flinch at that. So his first idea that Jaskier had been living in the songs and tales he told rather than the dark reality of it all, had been correct.

"I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I'm Filavandrel of the Edge of the World but I will not become Filavandrel, the slave of humans who'd kill us and make pariahs of any half-blood children." He took up his knife again. "Still, I don't want a war either and bury anyone else. So tell me, what's the lesser evil here? Starvation? Slavery? War? What lesser evil should I choose?"

By chaos, Geralt hated the phrase of lesser evil. Lesser, middling, greater. They were all the same to justify the history written by the victor. Still, as much as he hated the phrase and its implications, when Filavandrel asked that question almost as if praying to some god for guidance, something in Geralt reverberated. Something, hidden deep inside him, reacted to those words. "Make a choice. Forge a new path. Go somewhere else. Rebuild. Become strong again and show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be."

"Like you?" Filavandrel raised an eyebrow. "The earth whispered of your lesser evil in Blaviken. Didn't you kill everyone rather than choosing?"

Geralt choked down a snarl and the growl that rose from his chest. "What do you think why I showed you another option? Be grateful to your gods, elven king, that between hammer and anvil, you get to choose another path." Chaos knew that Geralt didn't have one in Blaviken. Stregobor and Renfri had played him well.

The elven king's pale skin turned white like chalk before he bowed his head. "I- I understand." When he looked up, his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "This has been our home but between choosing a lesser evil or choosing to leave, it's no choice at all. I've led more than enough of my people to their deaths."

Toruviel rose in protest. "My king!"

"No, Toruviel. He's right. We can tread a path that's neither of three evils and we should be grateful."

Geralt could tell by the defeated slump of his shoulders that Filavandrel didn't feel overly grateful but reason had won out. He allowed himself a small breath of relief because this meant that he hadn't led Jaskier to an untimely death and that was a reward all of it's own.

"But-"

"You weren't there, Toruviel", Filavandrel shut her down. "If you had, then you wouldn't be so eager to start a war."

Geralt nodded absentmindedly. War didn't care for justified reasons, for combat training or luck. War cared for deaths and deaths alone. Anyone who fed that beast would sooner or later perish by its hands.

There were many who faced the new god and chose. Humans, sorcerers, elves and monsters. It was the elves who recognized him first for what he was when he appeared in their valley of plenty and asked them his question. Filavandrel knew but he didn't speak of it to anyone but those elves that had been there because some things are not to be spoken aloud to others. When faced with his choice, he had been the first to pray to this new god and he got an answer that kept his people safe. For the moment. 

Word started to spread of a new god in the lands, one who offered choices between two evils and was not to be fooled with. It was said that those who tried to outwit the god of lesser evil would find themselves in ruin like the elves that left Dol Blathanna to die in Cintra. Words turned into superstition, superstition into tales and legends.

One such legend made its way to Blaviken to Stregobor. He had all but forgotten about the speech he had delivered that witcher years ago but when Marilka filled their work with chatter from the street and the newest tales and legends, he remembered and shivered. In the ethereal planes of existence that existed by chaos and magic and all that a mortal could never understand, he heard Renfri laugh with cruel mirth.

The old summer castle of Temeria hadn't been in use for years and it showed. There was dust everywhere except where Geralt and Triss had treaded earlier. Now there was also Lord Ostrit whom Geralt had carried into Adda's maiden room and bound to her bed. He appreciated the little ironies of life when they presented themselves. Since he was about to face a Striga while trying to break her curse, Geralt doubted that he had many more of life's little ironies ahead, so he intended to savour this one.

"This is madness, Witcher", Lord Ostrit protested. Geralt didn't spare a glance and kept checking his bottles of elixir, the status of his weapons and his readiness to use them. "What are we doing here? What's happening?"

Geralt sighed inwardly. "How can I lift the curse?"

"Foltest must pay for what he did", Ostrit spat out. "Adda would have loved me if not-"

He growled. He didn't have time for this. The Striga could leave her crypt any moment now. "Why don't you explain that to her?" Lord Ostrit paled. "You have to choose. Call it a lesser evil, if you will."

"Carry me out of here, Witcher. I order you." The lord's gaze darted through the room as though the victim of his curse was already here.

"Not an option." Geralt's grin resembled a wolf's snarl rather than a human's smile. "You can get your revenge, make Foltest pay and die or you can tell me how to break the curse, save Adda's child and die. So. What's your lesser evil?" Geralt ignored that strange echoing of "choices, choices" in his mind.

"I- I can't." Ostrit broke down. "I loved her but Foltest-"

Geralt choked down a scoff. "You can't not choose. What is your lesser evil?"

The man was fighting within himself. It stood clearly written in every wrinkle of his face. Then: "Can you really save Adda's daughter?"

Geralt grumbled. "Maybe."

That's when all of it flooded out of Ostrit. How he had found a witch in the woods and performed the ritual as well as the chant.

Geralt swore. The witch had been thorough in making her curse difficult or rather near impossible to break.

Everything after the fight against the Striga began until he woke up in Triss Merigold's laboratory by the smell of it was a haze. He recalled having climbed into the princess' coffin. The dull sound of hammering fists and the sharp scraping of claws echoed in his ears. Yes, he had been in that coffin and fought to keep it close until sunrise. Geralt swallowed at the memory of keeping that sign of protection up for hours. There was the taste of blood in his mouth. He had no idea where that came from. It was like looking into an enchanted fog. No details sprang up to help him remember.

As he groaned and opened his eyes – a mistake because the laboratory's light stung like fire – he found that he had received medical attention and the sorceress was at his side.

"You heal quite nicely", she commented. "Even for a witcher, I think. Your will to live is strong."

Geralt didn't care to mention that it was more likely an effect of having been mutated further than most witchers because he had shown such a high tolerance for the Trials. "The princess?", he growled instead.

"She's as well as can be." Triss shrugged her shoulders. "I've arranged for her to stay with the Sisters of Melitele for now so that she can learn to be human."

Geralt frowned. There was still the taste of blood in his mouth and it wasn't his blood or any monster's blood for that matter. He knew those well enough. "Did I bite her?"

"She'll heal, too." The question why he bit the princess burnt on her tongue, Geralt could tell. He was relieved when she didn't ask because he couldn't remember. "You should know that the honourable Lord Ostrit gave his life to slay the vukodlak. The miners are gathering ore for a statue." Triss scoffed derisively. When she addressed Geralt again, her eyes were softer. "I'm thankful that you didn't kill her. Anyone else would have."

With his most important questions answered, something else surfaced from deeper in his memory. "I'll take my coin now. I need to get back to my horse."

Triss turned away. She rummaged through her main desk before facing Geralt again with a bag that should hold about the right amount of coin for this job. He took it out of her hands. Right weight, too. "Who's Renfri?" Geralt nearly dropped the bag. "You uttered her name over and over in your sleep."

"She's dead", Geralt answered, unwilling to tell any more. "I'm leaving."

"So that's all? Monsters, money and nightmares of the dead?", Triss asked challengingly.

Geralt didn't deem it worth an answer. He didn't trust her, so he would rather turn into a striga himself before telling her of the nightmares of Renfri that followed him with the question of the lesser evil always ringing in his ears for weeks afterwards. Maybe one day he would. For a sorceress, Triss was almost bearable. "Choices, choices" it echoed in his mind.

"That's not all life has in store for you." Oh great, Geralt thought. She was a seer of some kind. "There is a vortex of fate around all of us and it grows with each and every one of our choices. Your destiny is out there, Geralt. It waits for you. It's coming for you with the teeth of a lion and the white flame."

Geralt growled. He hated prophecies, especially the ones that didn't rhyme.

There were whispers in the winds that a new god was walking the lands. Whispers was all there was because spoken of too loudly, it was said, the god would appear bringing his choices, his lesser evil and ruin. Mankind said whoever met this new god was bound for a dark fate. Triss didn't listen to mankind. She was a sorceress of the earth and it's where she listened to tales of choices, lesser evils and destiny, tales of a black sun, bloodied streets and a girl in the woods.

Triss thought back to a witcher who healed too fast even for his kind and the strange feeling that the lands were changing. She remembered the vortex of fate around Geralt of Rivia, the taste of his destiny unlike any other she had encountered before. Others, probably, would have started to pray. Triss just waited and listened. One day, she knew, that she would be faced with a choice between one evil and another. Until then she would prepare. There was no reason to worry over gods when her life wouldn't hold much impact either way.

Despite this bleak outlook on her own life, she felt no small amount of satisfaction when she saw Stregobor flinch as she innocently threaded the phrase of the lesser evil into her report at the next meeting of the Brotherhood. There hadn't been much research necessary to find out what Stregobor had caused in Blaviken and how Geralt had been involved. Triss couldn't wait to see when Stregobor got what he deserved for murdering all those children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even sure which part of this chapter I love the most. Geralt in hardcore denial of having changed? Triss?  
> Oh, wait, I think it's Renfri laughing over Stregobor's misfortune. That [insert a collection of swears and vulgarities here] can just keel over and die. In book and in series canon if you ask me.  
> Also, Triss may think that she's not gonna be important but I love her too much for that, so I think we'll be able to see more of her.


	3. Chapter 2: Choices, Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pavetta's betrothal feast, part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this story certainly is a ride because I haven't had a flow like this in... phew, years? So, I'm usually not writing and editing this fast (although I'll probably find lots more to edit in a month or two). I can't guarantee that I can keep up this velocity but I also think that I won't leave you hanging on any evil cliffs for months. mostly because I'm not a friend of evil cliffhangers at chapter ends or similar.

### Chapter 2 - Choices, Choices

Judging by Geralt's face, he would rather be anywhere but in Queen Calanthe's court at her daughter's betrothal feast but Jaskier had brought forth some good arguments and Geralt really owed him for making him famous, so here they were. The sour expression Geralt was making perfectly fit with Jaskier's plan and into his role as Jaskier's guard. None so far had dared to approach Jaskier with ill intention due to the grumpy witcher. So far, so good.

"Right", Jaskier tried to encourage himself. "Stick close to me, look mean just like you're doing already and pretend that you're a mute. Can't have anyone finding out who you actually are."

That plan worked for a whole of three steps into the courtroom when a druid, by the looks of it, noticed them.

"Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher!" The druid raised a tankard of ale with a broad grin that nearly overshadowed his frown but Jaskier was good at reading people. He could see that the druid was upset by something about Geralt and Jaskier would give up his lute if he didn't find out what it was by the end of the night. "I haven't seen you since the plague", the druid continued as he approached. "You changed..."

Geralt, with all the tact of a war mace quite unlike his refined blade, work interrupted the druid before he could speak more. "Good times, Mousesack."

Jaskier snorted. Only Geralt would call a plague good times. Still, that name rang a bell. Mousesack, Mousesack... wasn't he the druid currently serving the king of Skellige?

"I've missed your sour complexion." Mousesack chuckled. "I feared that this would be a dull affair but now that the White Wolf is here, perhaps it's not a lost cause." The frown returned and Jaskier hoped that now the druid would say something that helped him. "Why are you dressed like a sad silk trader?"

Two pairs of eyes gazed at Jaskier. "What?" It had been his idea, sure, but only because he didn't know that Geralt had friends in such high places. Had he known, he would have come up with a better cover or just let the cover be.

"Geralt, walk with me", Mousesack nodded in the direction of an alcove behind a few pillars. Oh, they were so not doing that while Jaskier was still curious and unsatisfied. He attempted to follow when the druid, with a smile like a Skelligen winter, faced him. "Aren't you the bard Calanthe hired? Maybe you should start earning your coin."

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times for a clever retort but for once words escaped him.

Geralt had hoped very hard that he wouldn't be noticed much at court and it had worked just fine with everyone only talking to Jaskier until Mousesack had barged through Geralt's hopes with the calamitous power of a raging thunderstorm.

"What do you want?", he asked directly once they had found some privacy. Geralt stood at an angle to keep Jaskier in his view. From what he knew of his bard, it wouldn't take much longer for problems to find him.

Mousesack shrugged his shoulders. "Can't I just talk to an old friend? Why, Geralt, it feels like you are avoiding me."

Geralt grunted. As though it was ever that easy with Mousesack. "Since we're old friends", Geralt put special emphasis on these words, "you won't mind getting to the matter at hand fast. You know, I prefer royalty best taken in... small doses and this horse trading is worse than courts already are on normal days."

Mousesack viewed him with a bit of sympathy. "I wouldn't count on leaving before dawn if you're here to protect the bard. These suitors will vie all night for Princess Pavetta's hand. Cintra's monarchy is the most powerful force in the land now and who wouldn't want to marry into it?"

Geralt scoffed. He wouldn't. "You didn't answer my question."

"As I said, something about you changed."

He looked down at himself. "It was Jaskier's idea."

Mousesack rolled his eyes. "I'm not talking about your clothes although it is strange to see you in something other than black – or nothing."

"You do realize that it's been decades", Geralt stated. "Since the plague. Of course I've changed."

There was a pause as Mousesack inspected Geralt again. Then he laughed out loud, emptied his cup and continued laughing. "Oh, this is rich. You didn't even notice it yourself?"

Geralt would have given a lot to press Mousesack against a wall, shake him a bit to loosen up his bones and tongue and then demand answers. Instead he had to excuse himself because Jaskier had found a friend in a code where friend meant a husband whose wife or daughter or, maybe and hopefully not, mother he had pleased.

By the time Geralt had saved Jaskier, although Jaskier wasn't sure if he really wanted to be saved like this, Mousesack had vanished and Jaskier had to get back to working, so he couldn't even follow Geralt searching for that druid. Which meant that when Geralt would find Mousesack, they would probably vanish together and then Jaskier wouldn't even get a chance to lipread and find out what they were hiding. Additionally, he would have to look out for daggers that were eager to become acquaintanced with his heart, lungs or other internal organs. Geralt, who should be doing that as his guard, seemed thoroughly distracted. Or upset. For all that Jaskier was proud of being able to read people, Geralt right now was at best elusive.

So he eyed the room while he sang and gathered as much information as possible. For example that Eist Tuirseach of Skellige was already making good with the Cintran nobles as though he would sit on the throne soon. Jaskier rather doubted it since Calanthe had already refused the man's proposal three times.

As though his thoughts had summoned her, Queen Calanthe of Cintra in all her gory, battle-hardened, actually quite bloody glory entered.

"What don't I know?" It hadn't been easy to extract Mousesack from the bulk of the Skelligens and then make good on his internal promise to press him against a convenient wall and shake him until answers fell out.

It didn't have the intended effect as Mousesack just laughed. "You haven't lost your temper at all, Geralt of Rivia."

"Then you better answer me quickly." Geralt wished he would have brought his swords. Still, he had a dagger or two and he was willing to find out how ticklish Mousesack was.

"Why don't we get through this night first and then I'll tell you everything I know?"

It was an amicable offer and Geralt had heard worse. Still, he had a bad feeling when he agreed. "Then let's get this shindig over with." He let down Mousesack on his feet. "Which of these esteemed lords hold your money?"

Mousesack angled for another tankard of ale. "It's not a fair bet. See Eist Tuirseach there? He and Calanthe agreed that Pavetta should marry Crach an Creite." He pointed to a tall redhead. That man would dwarf Geralt if they were to stand next to each other. Currently he was towering over another lord as they argued over who had slayed more beasts. Manticores of all things.

Jaskier was listening with half an ear to the lords' tales and claims. He rather doubted that any of them had ever so much as seen a manticore before let alone killed it. After all, Jaskier had travelled long enough with Geralt to know what monster slaying involved and he'd bet his lute that both of those lords would vomit when faced with selkiemore guts.

"Enough!", Queen Calanthe stopped the lords before their argument could dissolve into a fullout brawl better suited to a tavern than a royal court although from Jaskier's experience there usually wasn't much of a difference except for the quality of food and drink. "We have a renowned guest here tonight." Oh no, Jaskier already knew where this was heading and it was not good. "Perhaps he can declare which esteemed lord is telling the truth." Yes, he knew it. He called it.

"Neither", Geralt answered without thinking.

Jaskier cringed. Couldn't Geralt read the room? Actually, no, he couldn't. Jaskier knew that all too well. Still, he prayed to any god willing to listen that Geralt wouldn't say anything even more stupid after this.

"Are you calling me a liar, old man?", the redhead flared up in anger. Geralt could practically hear Jaskier praying to resolve this diplomatically. He also saw Mousesack shaking his head.

Unfortunately, Geralt wasn't in the mood for diplomacy. Mousesack knew something important he was keeping from him, Jaskier was the reason why he even joined this whole shindig in the first place and there was something in the air that made him uneasy. "A manticore has one tail with one sting that it regrows once it's been shot. If the esteemed lords want to show me the trophies of their manticore kills, I am willing to stand corrected." Geralt could feel a certain restlessness crawling under his skin. He was itching to get out of these clothes, to get back his swords and to get all of this over with. "In any other case, I suggest that you make a choice now."

Jaskier swore, that when Geralt asked the lords to choose, a pin dropping could have been heard within the court room. Something strange was afoot and Geralt was at the very centre of it. Taking in as many details as possible, Jaskier saw the lords frozen at their spots, the look of shock and awe on Mousesack's face, the insecurity on Queen Calanthe's and the laid bare challenge and certainty on Geralt's. This moment, Jaskier knew, was full of magic and everyone with the least bit of sensitivity to chaos could feel it. To Jaskier, with just the barest amount of magic, barely enough to thread it into his songs, it felt like a thousand little thunderstorms surrounded him and were he to move carelessly, lightning would strike him down.

"Perhaps...", Jaskier lightly treaded into this moment. "Perhaps the lords encountered a rare mutant supspecies of manticore?"

There were relieved nods all around but Jaskier concentrated only on his witcher who was becoming stranger every time he encountered him. Geralt had narrowed his eyes at Jaskier and the gaze out of them was not... Jaskier would have said it was not from this world but maybe it was just even more from this world than anything else in this court room.

"You said it could happen." Jaskier put on his most innocent and charming face.

Geralt blinked and just like that the moment was over. That intense stare was gone as well as the feeling of magic laying heavily in the air. "Hmmm", he grumbled. "Could be." Everyone could hear the unspoken "But I doubt it" that followed as Geralt emptied his tankard.

"Perhaps our esteemed guest would like to entertain us with how he slayed the elves at the edge of the world?", Calanthe suggested to lighten the mood. Laughter and cheering were heard.

Jaskier nervously smiled along. Since he heard the actual story of Dol Blathanna, the noble work of slaying elves as the Cintrans would call it, held little appeal to him. Additionally, with Geralt already in a sour mood, he wouldn't pass over the inaccuracies in Jaskier's songs and instead correct every single one of them ruthlessly.

"There was no slaying. I had my arse kicked and they were about to cut my throat when Filavandrel let me go." Geralt's warning stare was enough that no one mentioned the song. Jaskier felt himself sweating profusely. "He chose the least of evils which is all I can hope for you, good lords, when you are faced with that question of whom to save or honour."

Jaskier let out a relieved sigh when that seemed to settle it. Queen Calanthe looked at Geralt with intrigue if Jaskier had to find a word for it. "Any man willing to paint himself in the shadow of his failures will make for interesting conversation this night. Come, Witcher. Take a seat by my side while I change."

Geralt was unsettled. Even without Mousesack's words about him having changed in his ear, he could no longer deny that he had. Something was happening with him and when he had faced those esteemed lords it had broken out of him like floodgates had been opened. Worse even, now that he knew it was there, it didn't leave. There was an awareness to his surroundings now that had nothing to do with his heightened witcher senses, any elixirs or physical reactions to something he could have consumed. It was like the world was whispering all its choices to him.

He barely paid attention to Calanthe's small talk or attempt at hiring him. He couldn't. There were loud choices surrounding her and her daughter. "Choices, choices", his mind whispered in endless echoes. "Choose! Choose!", his mind ordered with the rhythm and power of a sledgehammer. Even if he had wanted to talk to Queen Calanthe, it was almost impossible.

Something was irrefutably wrong. That Mousesack kept sneaking him glances from within the bulk of Skelligens just enforced that feeling that kept on growing during this long parade of lords asking for Princess Pavetta's hand in marriage.

For a short moment the whispers, yells and orders stopped long enough that Geralt could see a knight in full armour barging into the court room. He even still wore his helmet and although Geralt didn't give a rat's ass for the rules of court, he knew that this was forbidden in a way that didn't need to be written down.

Just as Queen Calanthe recovered from her shock, so did the chorus of Choices and Choose, drowning out everything else. He didn't hear the knight's name nor message. He couldn't understand Calanthe's biting retorts over the pounding in his mind and he would have nearly missed Eist of Skellige intervening due to a particularly loud and vicious order to choose. This way he caught the end of it by reading lips that formed Bollocks.

Geralt flinched in pain when Eist of Skellige ripped off the knight's helmet to reveal a head half human and half hedgehog. A bombardement of "Choose! Choose!" fired off inside his mind. The pain was bad enough that Geralt felt justified to compare it to the Trials.

A voice cut through it. "By the Law of Surprise!"

Geralt looked around in confusion. That had been the cursed knight claiming the law of surprise. Calanthe's clenched jaw told him all he needed to know. She had been aware that Pavetta had been a child of surprise. Of course, she was and now she was trying to go against destiny because of course she would.

With a scoff Geralt turned to Queen Calanthe. There was still the chorus of choices and choose inside his mind but the knight's voice cutting through had given him a moment to reclaim his senses. Now he could think at least somewhat. "So this is your choice, Queen Calanthe?", he asked scathingly.

"Go against destiny or lose my daughter? It's never been a choice to me", she answered coldly.

Before Geralt could ask more, her eyes lit up. He spun around just in time to see a halberd swinging down that would decapitate the cursed knight. This wasn't a choice to Geralt either as he jumped over the table, picked up a sword that had been lost within the battle and saved the knight's life.

Geralt didn't get to wonder how he could have managed this in such little time because his grace period ended. A headsplitting ache cracked open his mind and with the strength of a thunderclap "choose!" roared through his being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geralt's hoping not to be noticed and it working... well, a godly miracle, right?^^  
> As for Mousesack, from what I read between the lines and stuff, it seemed like Geralt and him knew each other very well some time ago which I understood as they totally fucked as teen-somethings.  
> And cliffhangers... ah well, this isn't exactly an evil one and I also got the next chapter in line anyway, so you won't have to wait long for it.
> 
> Irritable, annoyed Geralt is quite fun to write^^ And Jaskier... I love this bard. He's just... delightful.


	4. Chapter 3: The Lioness of Cintra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pavetta's betrothal feast, part 2. Jaskier solves things the Jaskier way and Geralt is decidedly not Geralt. Or more than Geralt?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, this chapter fought me with tooth and claw so even if it's actually a story about Geralt and Jaskier, it's named after Calanthe for being so troublesome. And also because Calanthe plays a big part here.

### Chapter 3 - The Lioness of Cintra

Jaskier wasn't sure how it all could have gone downhill this fast. First he was singing, then that knight with half a hedgehog head appeared and claimed the law of surprise and suddenly everyone was fighting. He wasn't sure how it had escalated from this Lord Urcheon fighting to Geralt joining him faster than a dragon could breathe fire and then even Eist of Skellige. He wasn't sure _how_ , but he sure as chaos' reign wasn't surprised _that_ it had escalated like this.

His eyes were on Geralt the whole time. Actually, he had been watching Geralt closely since that strange behaviour with the lords because something was more than just wrong with his witcher. Geralt was acting decidedly not-Geralt. At first, Jaskier had been willing to write it off as having to deal with the Cintran court and that troublesome druid. Then Geralt hadn't stopped looking pained from the moment he had taken a seat next to Queen Calanthe and Princess Pavetta. For Geralt to show a weakness in front of nobles he loathed, it had to be bad.

Jaskier found his worries justified when Geralt jumped to Lord Urcheon's defence and right after fell to his knees. Sure, Jaskier had seen his witcher fight often enough to know that Geralt wasn't invincible, even got his arse kicked more often than Jaskier dared to count, but he had never seen Geralt fall down from seemingly nothing. He certainly had never seen Geralt clutch his head as though in immeasurable pain.

Across the room he noticed Mousesack frowning. He didn't know the druid well apart from stories and their first introduction this night, but since he seemed to know what was happening with Geralt and he was worried, that made Jaskier worry a great deal.

A sigh of relief left his lips as Geralt stood up. He inhaled it back immediately because the man that stood there wasn't Geralt even though he was Geralt but even more Geralt than Geralt usually was if that made even sense to anyone but Jaskier.

There was always a hint of danger about Geralt, a posture like, Jaskier knew how cliché he sounded, a wolf on the hunt. When they were around people, Geralt kept most of it in check and tried to blend in as much as possible. Sometimes he would even pass as a human fighter if it weren't for his hair, eyes and the black clothing typical for his profession. Jaskier had seen Geralt shed this pretence often enough as soon as they left the company of people. On the Path, Geralt was a different person than people usually got to see, wilder somehow. If he was wounded, Jaskier would almost call him feral. Most of all, when on the Path, Geralt looked alive. Without the mask he put on around people, Geralt looked like so much more than life.

That's what Jaskier was reminded of right now. That change from leaving 'civilisation' for the Path and the hunt where Geralt seemed to become more than life. This Geralt in the courtroom who stood in the middle of the fighting felt even more alive than life, more real than reality. Jaskier probably was the only one who, in this short moment of eternity within the fighting, noticed this, saw it and could put words to it. Everyone, though, felt it.

"Choose."

That single word, that single order echoed through the courtroom like a snapped lute string, audible even over the fighting noise. It cut Jaskier's thoughts short, cut them clean off where he had recognized this more than real Geralt as a continuation of the intensely staring Geralt during the lords' argument over manticores. Had that strange Geralt filled the air with magic before, it was now as thick and heavy as water. Jaskier could barely breathe although he was as magical as a brick. Mousesack, he noticed between gasping breaths, looked like he was choking on it. With everyone struggling for air, the fighting effectively stopped. Slowly, everyone turned into the centre of the former brawl where a witcher stood who wasn't a witcher.

"You have to choose", more-than-Geralt said. He looked at Queen Calanthe but he addressed everyone in the courtroom. "You can keep fighting destiny until all is dust and death and broken glass or you can submit and it will be ash and blood drowned in a sea of black and gold", Jaskier swore he saw Lord Urcheon flinch at that, "you have to choose the lesser evil." 

Jaskier quickly decided that this more-than-Geralt was actually not-at-all-Geralt because the Geralt he knew hated the lesser evil. Lesser, greater, middling. All the same. That's what Geralt had said once on a particularly grumpy day. The Geralt Jaskier knew also had a firm and clear opinion about destiny which he liked to express in rather vulgar terms.

At the royal table, Queen Calanthe narrowed her eyes. Jaskier noticed that she, too, had trouble breathing – and her daughter looked like she was about to faint – but she hid it better than everyone else in the courtroom. "A lesser evil?", she asked and Jaskier understood why she was called the Lioness. It had little to do with her prowess on the battlefield. This here, was why she had earned that moniker. In her voice, despite the oppressive atmosphere of Geralt's strange magic, resounded the fierceness, fire and pride of the most formidable beast, the lion kings of legend that were supposed to have even killed dragons. Oh, he had to write that down once he could move properly again. "Who are you, witcher, that you want to make me choose the death of my home?"

"Doesn't matter. Choose", Not-Geralt commanded.

"That would be easier...", Mousesack choked out, "if you weren't... leaking... your power... all over the place." From his place Jaskier couldn't see Not-Geralt's expression as he turned to the druid but he'd bet it was some form of confusion. "By chaos...", Mousesack exclaimed. "You're not... aware."

Now, Jaskier knew little of magic except for what could be sung about. He also couldn't sense it most of the time just like other people. Still, he was practised in noticing even small and minor details which came in handy right now. When Not-Geralt's attention was suddenly focussed on Mousesack, Jaskier realized that he could breathe easier. Following that observation, it would mean that Mousesack would have an easier time if Jaskier got Not-Geralt's attention focussed on himself. That would result in Mousesack hopefully being able to do something about this, whatever it was, because from what Jaskier gathered, Mousesack was the only one who knew... this. Jaskier hated it when he didn't have the right words.

He cleared his throat carefully, willed his fingers to move and forced them onto the strings of his lute. Only due to the practice of years did he strum through the first accord and the next ones. It worked perfectly because Not-Geralt immediately turned to him. Jaskier coughed through the first onslaught of this thing Not-Geralt was doing. He grimaced at Mousesack who seemed to get the hint before Jaskier turned back to his job. 

"The call of the white wolf...." Under other circumstances, Jaskier would have given a lot to have Geralt stare at him this intensely when presenting a completely new song. Currently, he was fighting to stay on his feet and keep his voice somewhat steady. It wouldn't do for his image to fail now. "... is loudest at the dawn. The call of a stone heart is broken and alone. Born of Kaer Morhen, born of no love-" He grimaced. He'd have to clean up that part some time later when he was not singing for his life. That's what it felt like and Jaskier's feelings were rarely wrong. "The song of the White Wolf-"

A mighty shout of Mousesack in what sounded like elder speech to Jaskier interrupted his presentation. The air crackled like lightning in a bottle, the oppressive weight of magic smothered everything even the burning candles. Then... it was gone.

Jaskier fell backwards onto his bottom and gasped for the sweet, easy air that he could finally breathe without pain. Swords and halberds clattered to the floor while others pointed their weapons at Not-Geralt who now stood moderately disinterested in a bubbly kind of magical shield. That's what it looked like to Jaskier at least.

Once these first important observations were made, Jaskier turned to Mousesack. The druid was drenched, his face a grimace of utmost concentration on a battle of wills. His gaze found Jaskier's and in it stood a silent plea. Jaskier frowned in confusion. What was he supposed to do? He looked at Not-Geralt, at Mousesack- he was interrupted by Princess Pavetta, who, after regaining her own breath, hurried down from the royal table to Lord Urcheon and hugged him. Jaskier hadn't seen that coming. Not-Geralt neither from what Jaskier could see on his face. "Duny. I told you to stay away."

"I wanted to." Urcheon caressed her cheek. "But when I thought of you having to sit through all of this, I couldn't."

How romantic. Jaskier sighed inwardly. Then he remembered the more important problems of Geralt in this magic bubble and Mousesack fighting hard to keep it up. Not-Geralt, he noticed, was back to staring at Queen Calanthe. Oh. _Oh_. She still hadn't answered Not-Geralt. She hadn't chosen.

"You have to choose now", Jaskier rushed towards the Lioness. "You have to choose to stop this, er..." He looked at Mousesack for guidance who nodded weakly. "This magic won't vanish before you make a decision and Mousesack can't keep this, uhm, barrier up much longer..." Mousesack nodded again. He looked older now, probably closer to his real age.

"A choice", Queen Calanthe scoffed. "One death or the other? A lesser evil? Lesser, greater... middling. They're all the same. If ruin is all I can choose, then I'd rather not choose at all."

Not-Geralt made a strangled noise that Jaskier could only hear because he was now standing next to his witcher. His lips formed words but no tone left his throat. Jaskier understood anyway. "Evil is evil, Stregobor. Lesser, greater... middling..." Not-Geralt groaned. "You choose, princess." Another groan. Jaskier got the feeling that he was witnessing fragments of some intimate moments in Geralt's life that left an imprint far deeper than even Geralt knew. "You say you can't choose but you had to and you'll never know if you were right." The groans turned into growls, snarls and bared teeth. Not-Geralt clutched his head, his mouth open for a scream that never came. Except it did but not in a way that Jaskier could have heard. Instead he felt it run through him, before glass and Mousesack's barrier splintered into thousands of shards. Time forgot to keep running and for an endless moment those shards hung sparkling in the air like stars caught from the night skies. It was beautiful until time picked up its pace again.

Jaskier shivered in expectation of the oppressive magic but it didn't come. Maybe that scream had been enough to get rid of it? He wasn't sure but he could work with this.

"You cannot not choose", said Not-Geralt. Without gasping for air, Jaskier could hear that this Not-Geralt even sounded different from his witcher. Voice, pronounciation, choice of words... those were the same but his tone... His tone held the promise of knowledge beyond mortal understanding and an authority, Geralt never employed unless taking over command was the only way to survive. "You can bow to destiny or fight it but you cannot run from this choice. Destiny doesn't barter."

"Destiny?", Queen Calanthe echoed. "You mean the law of surprise. Tell me, witcher, why should I honour a law made by men who never bore a child? Why should I have to give my daughter to a monster because of my husband's promise?" Bitterness dropped off every syllable. He'd never considered the justification of the law of surprise before but hearing Queen Calanthe now, he wondered.

"'Tis the order of this world. A promise given must be honoured", Eist of Skellige stepped up to the Lioness of Cintra with surprisingly little fear. Jaskier had to respect the man for that. "King Roegner once mentioned that he had been saved from certain death by a knight out in the wilderness. If he agreed to the law of surprise as payment, then it has to be honoured or the whole order of the world falls apart."

Not-Geralt listened calmly. Jaskier kept an eye on him. He wondered if anyone else could see how not Geralt this Not-Geralt was. Probably no one but him and Mousesack. Oh, Mousesack. Jaskier looked for the druid and found him carefully walking towards Queen Calanthe. He clutched his head in a way that implied that the barrier's destruction had backfired on him. "We have to honour destiny or risk its wrath", he warned.

Queen Calanthe ignored him derisively. "Is there not a man among you who does not cower before this destiny? Is there?" Jaskier was sure that there would be paintings of this one day. Queen Calanthe, the Lioness of Cintra, who dared to fight destiny with nothing but a sword and her words looked around with stubborn defiance. Oh, he had to write that down. He also had to learn painting because no one who hadn't been here would be able to reproduce that tilt of her jaw, that unbending will and posture and the lighting... Reality painted the beginning of legends here.

"Your Majesty", Lord Urcheon kneeled down. If it had been Jaskier, he wouldn't have gambled that way, because Queen Calanthe looked ready to finish the halberdier's job from before. "Eist of Skellige speaks the truth. I did save your husband from certain death once and by tradition I chose the law of surprise as payment. Whatever he would find at home but didn't know he already had, would be mine." Queen Calanthe let out a number of curses that Jaskier filed away for future reference. "But when I heard that his surprise was a child, I decided not to claim it. I knew... I knew that like this no mother would entrust her child to me. So I waited until the twelfth bell rung. I never intended to meet Pavetta, just to watch and see that she does well."

"Destiny intervened", Pavetta continued. "And our hearts collided."

If Jaskier wasn't so worried about Geralt who was still decidedly Not-Geralt, then he would write all of this down because it would make a most enchanting tale for his newest ballad.

"So, what do you choose, Calanthe of Cintra?", Not-Geralt stopped the romantic tale. In that way he was very much like Geralt.

"What choice even is there?", Queen Calanthe shot back. Seemingly resigned, she handed her sword to Eist of Skellige before she offered a hand to Lord Urcheon and helped him stand. It was a gesture of peace and acceptance. Queen Calanthe didn't look very accepting nor peaceful to Jaskier.

He saw the reflected light of a dagger thrust towards Urcheon's throat at the same time as Princess Pavetta shouted "No!" and everything went flying.

He hit something with his back, then with his head.

A melody in the world's concert vanished.

Geralt wasn't sure what had happened between jumping to the cursed knight's defence and suddenly being flung across the courtroom into a pillar by the old, wild magic that came flooding out of Princess Pavetta. "Fuck", he growled. Every bone in his body hurt, his head felt like it was falling apart around a ball of pain and Mousesack looked at him with mild worry and awe. "What happened?" He blinked and looked at Mousesack again. "What happened to your hair?" Geralt could have sworn that Mousesack didn't have full strands of white in his hair before this night.

"Overexertion." The worry won out over the awe. "As for your other question: Too much to retell in this short amount of time. Most important part is that Calanthe tried to defy destiny which triggered this." He gestured at the vortex of chaos, magic and broken things surrounding Pavetta and the cursed knight. "We have to stop it before her magic turns from wild to feral. She's never learned control." Geralt had the mild suspicion that Mousesack meant more with those words than he said.

He could feel the magic running wild and the raw destructive power it held. "And how do you suppose we do that?" What Pavetta had unleashed could swallow every bit of magic Geralt knew whole and still have space for main course and three desserts.

"This was caused by Calanthe attacking Urcheon. Pavetta is trying to protect him", Mousesack explained. 

Geralt eyed the storm. It certainly did that for the moment because it was impossible to reach Pavetta or Urcheon which would have to be the name of the cursed knight. He snorted. Another of life's little ironies had found him as it seemed. A knight in the form of a hedgehog named Urcheon.

"Geralt, you have to find Calanthe. She still has to give her answer. Make her choose."

Something in Geralt reverberated causing another wave of pain. He flinched.

Mousesack swore under his breath. "That was the first time you unleashed all that power?" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter now. Move or we're all minced meat. You have to make Calanthe decide on a lesser evil." And I pray we all survive this, he added and Geralt heard it before he blacked out.

His sight came back and it was different. He moved towards Queen Calanthe but it wasn't his steps that got him through Pavetta's magical storm and it wasn't his eyes that looked at the swirling magic and it wasn't his body that evaded the numerous shards of glass and broken furniture. Geralt felt as though he was only watching from deep within his mind. Contrary to that he was acutely aware of everything, every sense attuned to the smallest details and his mind... Geralt had no way to describe it because he had never felt anything similar. The closest he got was to having recovered from a heavy injury and walking for the first time again except that this was not a recovery of something he had previously known but instead learning of a whole new part of himself that had always been there without him knowing. As though he had been living with only one leg all his life and now found out that he had another leg and two arms. Sadly, these new arms and leg weren't under his control right now.

Geralt watched himself squat down in front of Queen Calanthe who was partially protected by an unconscious Eist of Skellige. "You have to choose."

"I can't." Calanthe's eyes shimmered. Her gaze was fastened to her daughter's form in the vortex. "How could I?"

It still wasn't Geralt who answered Queen Calanthe but he was regaining some control over his actions. "Because not choosing one way is the same as choosing the other." Geralt had learnt that the hard way. He could see Queen Calanthe's choices, her options, her futures. There were some that wouldn't lead to her ruin but none of those futures were decided by her alone. "You can keep not choosing and it will be just like continuing to defy fate. Let me show you." It also wasn't Geralt himself that touched her forehead with his fingers but that new part of him that still held most of the control. "Your daughter will die in this courtroom trying to protect the man she loves. Cintra turns to dust while the magic of old kills every living being in your kingdom. You all die and Cintra will be known as destiny's graveyard. Your name will be erased from history as well as the memories of those who followed you. Cintra and everything it was will vanish but when the time of the axe and sword comes, there will be no white flame to burn the north, no sea of black and gold. Or-"

"Enough!" Queen Calanthe threw back her had to escape the visions of death she was shown. "I don't care for your lesser evil, witcher, nor your destiny. Still, I understand." She crawled out from beneath Eist of Skellige. Her hair was in disarray, her crown sat lopsided on her head and there was blood on her gown as well as thousands of minor cuts. It wasn't a dignified look that people would sing about but her strength, her pride and her ferocity as the Lioness of Cintra had never been more visible. "Enough!", she yelled into the vortex. "Destiny has spoken! And I have listened!"

Geralt got up when she walked past him into the vortex that was slowly subsiding. There were still many choices in this courtroom, present and in the near future, many more outside spanning the whole continent, but the most important choice for this moment had been made.

He let out a breath, he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Yes, the choice had been made.

Geralt noticed the stone floor of the courtoom rising to meet his face. The world changed to silent black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is some kinda mean cliffhangers and I know what they sound like, especially the one of Jaskier's PoV but, well, I'd have put major character death in the tags if I'd have someone die permanently. And also, I haven't gotten to the real shippy stuff yet, so of course, Jaskier is still good.  
> Also, the next chapter is already done, so I can solve this cliffhanger soon enough. no worries^^  
> And well... Calanthe is not a good person, I know, but I am very much in love with her not bowing to anyone. Until destiny but that was up for debate, too. I'm so glad I got Jaskier to wax poetic about her.


	5. Chapter 4: The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mousesack has explanations, Jaskier is well, Geralt would have loved to stay oblivious.  
> ... this could also just be the story summary now that I think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, finally a chapter with explanations... but not all of them because that would be boring. Also, Mousesack doesn't get enough love or pay for this.

### Chapter 4 - The Aftermath

Geralt came to with a groan, a lot of pain and no memories whatsoever of anything after he noticed that Mousesack was present at Princess Pavetta's betrothal feast. He blinked blearily. Whom had she married now? Hadn't Mousesack mentioned someone? A redhead?

He moved to sit up and look at his surroundings. There were splinters and shards of glass lying on a half cleared floor where Geralt had been put down with lots of others that looked like they had passed out. That must have been quite the betrothal feast. He nearly regretted that he couldn't remember any of it. For a moment he wondered how much he must have had to drink because he hadn't been this properly drunk in... actually, he wasn't sure.

"With my blessing... I thee bind."

Geralt spun around abruptly. A betrothal feast this destructive and they were already getting married? Had the Cintrans always moved this fast? He blinked again, trying to will his eyes to focus. Sure, yes, that was Princess Pavetta from all he knew. Next to her was a cursed knight. A memory bubbled up of that knight claiming the law of surprise. Another of Geralt saving that same knight from decapitation by halberd.

Carefully, Geralt got onto his feet, fighting for balance. He clearly was out of it. Still, when the growling started, he made haste to get to the centre of this fast wedding.

He arrived just in time to see a man in the clothes of the cursed knight.

"The twelfth bell has not yet rung", Princess Pavetta stated confusedly. Her tone fit how Geralt felt.

"What has happened?", Queen Calanthe voiced exactly Geralt's thoughts.

Mousesack cleared his throat. "It seems that your blessing of this marriage... has fulfilled a destiny. The curse has been lifted."

Geralt massaged his head. "Great. Mousesack, let's take a walk", he interrupted the wild wedding. He had questions and Mousesack would answer them as soon as they had some privacy.

The druid bowed apologetically to Queen Calanthe and Eist of Skellige before moving towards Geralt.

"No, wait!", Lord Urcheon exclaimed. "Wait! You saved my life. I must repay you."

Geralt shrugged. "It was nothing. You don't owe me a thing." He also didn't want to be repaid for something he barely remembered. Right now, all he wanted, was to get out of here, collect his bard and have a long talk with Mousesack. In that order.

"No, please. Please, Geralt of Rivia, do not feel like you're doing me a service." Geralt got a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I cannot start a new life in the shadow of a life debt."

"Fine", Geralt growled. "I claim the tradition as you have. The law of surprise as payment. Give me that which you already have but do not know." He just wanted to get this over with.

Queen Calanthe paled much to Geralt's dismay. The sinking feeling got worse. "What have you done, Witcher?", she asked breathily.

Geralt would have rolled his eyes but the still powerful ball of pain in his head made him stop the motion before it could really start. "Fear not. If I'm ever seen in your kingdom again, it'll be to kill a real monster, not lay claim to a crop or new pup. Destiny can go fu-"

He was rudely interrupted by Princess Pavetta vomiting in a very unroyal way. Calanthe's jaw was clenched, Lord Urcheon paled. "Pavetta? Are you...?", he asked with dread. Calanthe's expression was answer enough.

Every pair of eyes in court turned to Geralt.

"Fuck."

Geralt was about to leave anyway as he noticed something or rather its absence. Jaskier would have commented on him acquiring a child surprise, wouldn't he? Actually... he looked around but couldn't see the bard anywhere.

"Where is Jaskier?"

Memory fragments of a storm caused by wild magic surfaced, of being flung around. Geralt couldn't see Jaskier in those fragments but he could guess that his bard had also been picked up and hit something.

Geralt would never admit it out loud but he hoped with everything he had that Jaskier was alive and well.

Jaskier carefully opened one eye, then, as he saw no immediate threat, the other. Alright, he was staring at a ceiling. He was also lying on something very uncomfortable. In the back of his mind, Jaskier had the distinct feeling that he was missing something fundamentally important. He wiggled his hands and feet. At least he wasn't missing his limbs. He cleared his throat, hummed a little. No, his voice wasn't missing either. Neither was his eyesight and his hearing seemed intact, too.

Jaskier got up and inspected his clothes. Dust and a thousand minor cuts. That's what he got for inviting Geralt to a banquet. Maybe he should have rather risked some noble or the other recognizing him than bring Geralt here because where Geralt went, disaster followed. He looked further down. Ah. He had been lying on a broken table. That explained why it was so uncomfortable.

"You..."

Jaskier turned around as someone interrupted his inspection. There was a group of people. Queen Calanthe, Eist Tuirseach, Princess Pavetta, a knight at her side, Geralt, what a relief, and Mousesack who had just spoken. Also a bunch of minor nobles that Jaskier didn't care about for at the moment. "I seem to have blacked out." Now he noticed the princess holding the hands of that unfamiliar knight at her side. Their hands were even bound. With the royal scarf. Oooooh. "I missed the wedding?", Jaskier exclaimed.

"You", Mousesack started again, cleared his throat and began a third time: "You two missed a lot more. Let's take a walk."

Something was off about Mousesack. Jaskier eyed him more closely. "What happened to your hair?"

Mousesack sighed. He looked almost embarassed as he touched a new strand of white hair. "Overexertion."

Mousesack had led them to the farther part of Cintra's royal castle where the Skelligens were quartered. Whoever had arranged for that, had been a clever person because the Skelligens were a rambunctious lot. Geralt had no idea how the school of the bear got along with them so well. "Geralt, why don't you put up a sign for privacy?"

He grunted. "Isn't your magic better suited for this purpose?" Witcher signs were faster to use and needed less energy or concentration to keep up but they also had the downside that their application range was extremely limited, especially when compared to the magic of sorcerers and druids.

The look Mousesack shot him held a full story in a language Geralt couldn't decipher. "I overexerted myself." He pointed to the white strands. "Within the last hours I was forced to use a large amount of magic and it already took a toll on me, so forgive me if I don't want to make it worse."

Geralt hummed in agreement as he formed a sign on the ground between them. The downside of sorcerer and druid magic was that it came with a hefty price tag attached. "Why did you use a large amount of magic?" He frowned. "Did you summon that storm?" Spikes of pain shot through his mind as he tried to recall more than those few fragments he had been given. When all he got as answer, was a confused look from Mousesack, he clarified: "My memories are a bit hazy from... basically since this shindig started." Geralt hated to admit it but at least it was only to Mousesack and Jaskier, two people he trusted a bit more than others.

"I'm not surprised", Jaskier murmured. "You were acting beyond strange. The whole evening, by the way. Since when have you been so obsessed with choices and the lesser evil?"

Geralt flinched as the words drilled into his mind like a hot iron.

Mousesack coughed. "I can explain. I promised I would and, given the situation, I have to before you go and get someone killed."

That sounded far more serious than he remembered Mousesack to be. But then, it had been decades and people changed. Geralt wouldn't take Mousesack's worry lightly in any case. The druid usually wasn't entirely wrong. "Talk."

For a while there was only silence as Mousesack searched for the right words. "What do you two know about gods?"

"Fuck", Geralt groaned. The last thing he needed was for gods to get involved in his life.

"Some gods do", Mousesack replied innocently. "You certainly are among those."

Geralt was almost sure that he had heard incorrectly because Mousesack's implication made no sense to him except for that part of him where it made perfect sense. More memory fragments rose from the abyss of blackout. The feeling of being more, of finally realizing that there was more to him. The feeling of not being in control.

Jaskier spluttered. "Are you saying what I think you're saying? Because that would be... very... logical, really. Geralt, in the courtroom, you-"

"No. It's nonsense", he growled. For all the little he knew of gods other than Melitele, it just couldn't be. Not him of all people. No. "Choices, choices", the back of his mind whispered. "Yes", his whole being answered.

"You were raised a witcher. I'm a druid", Mousesack argued. "Unlike you, I have studied the gods all my life and I am perfectly able to recognize them when they appear before me and you, Geralt, feel just like them. You have become a god since last we met."

"How does one become a god?", Jaskier asked because of course he would. He was a bard and lived in legends. Of course, Jaskier would jump at the chance to learn more.

Mousesack shrugged. "There's many ways for gods to be born. Some are born of chaos itself, others of the lands, the skies and the seas and others again are born of ideas. Gods of protection, motherhood, honesty, music, all those mortal ideas that fill our world with purpose."

"And Geralt?"

Geralt growled. He had an inkling. Despite hating the idea, he couldn't deny that it felt right what Mousesack said.

"Choices." The druid looked sympathetically at Geralt. "The hard choices of the lesser evil."

Geralt growled again. Of course it had to be that. Renfri and Stregobor be damned. No, Stregobor be damned. Renfri had as much a hand in this as Geralt himself. "You're saying that I've been a god since fucking Blaviken."

Mousesack shrugged. "It's only a guess but considering how you acted in the courtroom... how you reacted to choices and the phrase of lesser evil especially-" Geralt flinched as another stab of pain drilled through his mind. "And given your reaction now, I'd say my guess isn't far off."

"How do I get rid of it?", Geralt spat out between clenched teeth. It hurt and he could hear the chorus of choices slowly swelling to a sea of noise again.

"Only you..." Mousesack shook his head. "Only you would try to get rid of such a gift."

"Wanna trade?" Geralt clenched his eyes shut. It didn't drown out the noise but at least he wasn't assaulted by sight on top of it. "There's so many choices and I can hear every single one of them. Do you have any idea how loud they are?"

"I'm just a druid. I studied the gods and I worship them but I have no idea how it feels to be a god." There was a hint of pity in Mousesack's voice. Geralt hated to hear it but he was too exhausted to argue. "I know what it feels like to perceive more than other people and I could teach you to control all those new perceptions. At their core, gods are beings of magic, just like sorcerers and druids or Pavetta. You're just a bit more magic than we are."

It was tempting to accept. "Not to interrupt, but why exactly am I here for this?", Jaskier did exactly that. He was as curious as a cat, Geralt knew that and he appreciated that for once his bard seemed to understand that there were parts of Geralt's life that he didn't want people to see.

"Because I need your help to get this stubborn bastard of a new god to agree to stay in Cintra until he can control his power." Mousesack hit Geralt's back. "Otherwise that power will control you just like that ancient magic controlled Pavetta."

"I'm staying", Geralt murmured. "No reason to involve Jaskier." He hated it but he would stay. What Mousesack said about the power controlling him, had awakened a few more memories of the court room where Geralt had moved without being in control and he had done things... it had felt like it was him but also not him. He didn't want to experience that ever again.

"Oh, then I'll just-", Jaskier got up dejectedly. Geralt didn't like his tone for reasons he couldn't place.

"You're staying, too", Mousesack ordered. "The first thing we need to get this god affair under control is knowledge. Now, Geralt likes to gloss over the details or ignore them outright when it's not a hunt and you've been travelling a lot with him the last years from what I heard." Geralt would have liked to protest but for one would it have been futile because Mousesack wasn't wrong, for the other Jaskier had already agreed. "And we could use a song about a witcher speaking with the voice of destiny or something." Geralt scoffed. "Unless you want everyone to know that you've become a god."

Geralt groaned. "I concede. Just don't..." He looked at Jaskier. "Don't go overboard with it."

For once his bard seemed to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell you how much fun this chapter was.  
> More about what happened to Jaskier will come in future chapters, this was more about ending Pavetta's betrothal and setting up how Geralt will spend the next ... time units. months. years.


	6. Chapter 5: Troublesome news

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The magical mess of Pavetta's betrothal had not gone unnoticed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is unbeta'd, so go in prepared. Also, I really have no idea why the characters here did what they did but I'm just the author so they don't tell me shit.

### Chapter 5 - Troublesome News

Jaskier wasn't stupid, actually he was anything but. He also was quite observant which is how he had noticed years back that he only needed to shave half as much if at all when he travelled with Geralt. Additionally to that, he'd found that his hair was usually impeccable in any situation and that he got paid better. That realization had put quite a damper on his mood after the whole revelation of Geralt as a god whose power bled all over the place to make things happen.

When Jaskier had brought up his theory about Geralt doing things to him, Mousesack had at first choked on his water, then laughed loud enough to disturb Cintra's usually complacent and fat doves. "You think that Geralt, the grumpiest bastard I've ever met, would make people love your music?" An eruption of magic from Geralt, powerful enough that even Jaskier felt it, interrupted Mousesack. "Ah, nevermind."

That had been that on that topic until later that evening when Geralt took him to the side after Jaskier had fought himself through a song that earned another round of fervent applause. He smiled through it as Geralt, very much like Geralt, pulled him away into a quieter corner. "I heard you. With Mousesack."

Oh great. Jaskier had known that since the magic eruption but did they have to talk about it now? "And?", he asked despite himself.

Geralt shifted uncomfortably. "I might be responsible for the less shaving and the hair... Fuck." All about Geralt told Jaskier that his witcher didn't want to be having this conversation either. "I'm not making them love your singing."

There was a multitude of unsaid sentences after that and just the same amount of questions stuck in Jaskier's throat but he was overwhelmed and Geralt looked so uncomfortable that he didn't ask them. Instead Jaskier cracked a smile. "I bet you wished for them to stop me singing."

Geralt turned away sharply at that, muttered something about needing air and Jaskier, a bit reassured that it wasn't just an out of control god that made people love him and his songs, returned to Queen Calanthe's court for evening entertainment.

While Jaskier got used to living in a reality where his life was dominated by Geralt's godly influence and the feeling of missing a piece ever since that betrothal feast, Cintra cleaned up the mess of said betrothal feast. Politically, socially and physically. That last part had been easiest to remedy, Jaskier thought. Broken glass and furniture didn't take too long to clean up and the crafting guilds in Cintra, city and country, were all too happy to replace what had been broken. Concerning Cintra's economy, this feast had been a huge win.

Everything else? Jaskier wasn't even sure where to start. There were all kinds of rumours over what happened during the betrothal feast although Jaskier's song of destiny's voice was gaining some traction. He knew that there were others. Apparently, there had been legends of a god of lesser evil for years and Geralt's behaviour had fed those legends a great deal. It would be easy to blame the servants for leaking those details but Jaskier's money was on the entourage of nobles. 

Politically, it was even more of a mess. Princess Pavetta of Cintra had married a nobody. After what happened, no one would dare to directly protest against the law of surprise but there were disapproving murmurs and grousing. On top of that, everyone was preparing for the wedding of Eist Tuirseach of Skellige to Queen Calanthe of Cintra – Jaskier deeply regretted that he did not know how that had happened – and there was worried glances from the North because an alliance of Cintra and Skellige by marriage could be troublesome.

And then there was Geralt himself...

Overall they were settling in fine. Geralt did his training and Jaskier spent his days watching Geralt, talking with Mousesack or singing for Queen Calanthe or down in the town, but... well... Now, Jaskier wasn't the most knowledgeable on subjects of magic and gods unrelated to songs and Dol Blathanna had shown him how much those had to do with reality, but to him it didn't look like Geralt was actually training with Mousesack. 

He spent the time until short after noon on the training grounds of Cintra's royal guard. Initially, there had been some rough moments which could probably be blamed on the fact that Geralt had fought those same knights in court. Then a young knight captain, Danek was his name, had stepped forward and asked Geralt for some pointers on bladework. Jaskier still wasn't sure how that question had led to Geralt and the knights getting sloshed in Cintra's taverns the same evening.

After noon until evening was when Geralt was supposedly training with Mousesack but from what Jaskier saw, Geralt was just sitting around with closed eyes. Sure, he was drenched in sweat at the end of each training with Mousesack and more than once he had just keeled over like a felled tree, but he didn't do anything, did he?

Mousesack who was watching Geralt just like Jaskier did, sighed heavily. "He's meditating."

Had he spoken that out loud? Jaskier's mouth now and then was faster than that part of his mind that told him what a bad idea it would be to say this or that.

"You did not", Mousesack answered the thought question. "But you are thinking very loudly and even if I were trying not to listen, it would be hard not to."

"You're listening to my thoughts?", Jaskier spluttered. That... he didn't like. He didn't want that. He was just slowly coming around to liking Mousesack but that liking did not extend to having the druid listen to his every thought.

"Actually, I am listening for anything from Geralt or his magic", Mousesack corrected. "It's not like I can choose to hear only one thing when I'm spreading out my senses like that. Your loud thoughts just get caught up in it." That was a little comfort. "And I'm starting to understand why Geralt is so fond of you. You are enjoyable company."

"You will find I'm far less enjoyable if you don't stop answering my thoughts", Jaskier retorted scathingly. When had his life gotten this weird?

Mousesack inhaled sharply. At first Jaskier thought, it was in reaction to his words but Mousesack didn't look at him. Instead his eyes were focussed on his glass of water. "Hello, Tissaia, long time no see", he said with a hint of cold disdain in his voice. Jaskier could see no Tissaia but it wasn't hard to conclude that there was magic going on. "What does the Chapter want?"

"Don't play dumb with me, druid." Well, Jaskier couldn't see Tissaia but he could hear her just fine. Her tone told him that she didn't tolerate fools. Lovely person. "We could feel your work in Cintra all the way in Aretuza. The towers were trembling! Are you trying to unleash chaos on us all?" She sounded irate enough to step out of that water glass any moment.

Mousesack grinned lopsidedly. "That wasn't me and you know it because if you were sure that I wrecked such chaos all over the dimensions then the Chapter would have been here weeks ago."

"But you know what caused it."

The grin broadened. "Of course, I do, Tissaia, but must I remind you that I am not bound to the Brotherhood nor do I hold much love for you since my circle was murdered?"

"We could be facing a cataclysm, Mouse- What happened to your hair?"

Jaskier bit down a snort. Mousesack had had to answer that question a few times in these last weeks and he was slowly developing an allergy to it as it seemed. For now there was only an annoyed twitch in his right eyelid. "Overexertion from keeping that possible cataclysmic event contained. The end."

There was a frustrated sigh to be heard. "Mousesack, chaos help me, I will travel to Cintra for answers if you don't tell me what I need to know." A pregnant pause. "Or let me bring the whole Brotherhood. It's a matter of magic importance."

Mousesack chuckled lightly in the face of that threat. "The Brotherhood is banned from Cintra. Unless Queen Calanthe changes her mind, which I doubt, you can fling matters of magic importance around as much as you want. Queen Calanthe would be in her right to force you out and a direct confrontation wouldn't help the Brotherhood's standing in the other kingdoms, would it? It would have been different, were I to blame for this incident but since I'm not, you have no legal standing."

Mousesack, Jaskier just noticed, wasn't just blessed with magic and the talent to work with people. He also had a sharp mind for politics.

"You know me", Tissaia answered coolly. "It would be no problem for me to cause trouble in Cintra until Queen Calanthe requests the Brotherhood's help."

Jaskier snorted quietly at that. Having entertained her many an evening now, he rather doubted it. Sweet ancestors, it had taken a god, a manifestation of ancient magic and destiny to change her mind.

Where Jaskier tried not to anger the sorceress, Mousesack started to laugh outright. "You have spent too much time around Stregobor and Artorius but I would love to see you try regardless, Tissaia. What troubles could you cause that Cintra's army, my magic and a witcher could not solve?" A sharp inhale of breath further amused Mousesack. "Haven't your rumours and spies told you? Geralt of Rivia is here and I'm sure you remember that he and I work well together."

Jaskier would have given a lot to see this Tissaia's face now. "Geralt of Rivia, hm?", she asked seemingly disinterested after a troubling pause. "A druid and a witcher in one place and there's still such a major magical event... in Cintra..." She trailed off before her tone completely changed. "Very well, Mousesack, you made your point clear. So let me make my point clear. You are not equipped to deal with what you're facing. I can help and maybe we can still prevent a major catastrophe."

Mousesack frowned in disdain. "I know what I'm doing and you're not needed."

"Aen Saevherne", Tissaia said. Jaskier had never heard those Elder words before but Mousesack seemed to have. "Yes, in Cintra. We've been tracking that line for generations and Queen Calanthe is a bearer of it. So must be her daughter Pavetta, who caused that event since neither you nor that witcher hold that amount of power."

There was a long silence from Mousesack. "The girl has access to an immense primal power", the druid finally admitted.

"And no idea how to control it", Tissaia answered. "Let me come over. Guide her. Teach her control."

Mousesack shook his head. "You're still part of the Brotherhood. Even if I recommend having you teach Princess Pavetta, Queen Calanthe will not agree." Jaskier blinked in confusion. When had the animosity turned into a hesitant alliance?

"Make her agree, Mousesack." That sounded like an order. "Or we will be facing a major event every time Princess Pavetta loses her temper. Considering she's Queen Calanthe's daughter... I'm not looking forward to earthquakes and living chaos every week."

"That's... a compelling argument", Mousesack agreed hesitantly. "But the Brotherhood...?"

"Fuck them!", Tissaia spat out. "Aretuza was my life! And now they're throwing around their weight for everything to overrule my standing as rectoress. Want to know the newest idiotic idea of Stregobor? Accepting everyone with the barest hint of magic as long as they can pay. I'm supposed to teach girls who never had a conduit moment and never will. He and his majority in the Chapter make me teach girls that will only end up as conduits for Aretuza anyway." Tissaia cleared her throat. "I've had enough of turning girls, that could have had everything, into conduits. Aretuza was my life because I loved teaching but that's not what I'm doing any longer. I'm just leading pigs to the slaughter."

Jaskier had the distinct feeling that he shouldn't have been hearing that. Actually, he would have loved not to hear any of this dark side of magic.

"I'm going to talk with Queen Calanthe..." Mousesack trailed off. "Where did Stregobor and Artorius get so much support after that Black Sun disaster?"

A long sigh. "I have no idea but between you and me? The Brotherhood has never been one for the moral high ground even if we loved to act like it. Now? It's worse." She cleared her throat once more. "I'd love to teach again, not all this political manoeuvring."

Mousesack's lips were a thin line by now. "I'll inform you of Calanthe's decision as soon as I got one." His hand moved over the water and the communication ended. "That... was unpleasant", the druid commented.

"So what now?" Jaskier scratched a bit of stubble on his chin. "Do you really want this Tissaia here? You didn't seem to like her."

Mousesack scoffed. "I got no love for her. She was among those sorcerers that got my circle killed back in the day. But... she is powerful and Princess Pavetta can really use someone who teaches her about that ancient magic. I don't know that much about it."

"But she's not prone to losing her temper." As far as Jaskier had understood it, Princess Pavetta's magic appeared when she was high on emotions, like for example when her mother tried to kill her not-yet-husband.

Mousesack nodded in agreement. "If only it was that easy. That magic has awakened now and it won't just go back to sleep." He clapped on his thighs before he got up. "Please tell Geralt that today's training is over and that we're going to get troublesome guests here. I've got to try and make Calanthe see sense."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that's Tissaia and I guess she is rather different than from what we see in the series but she did say that she was chaos just like Yen and that she just had more control over it. Also, to me she didn't seem too happy over the whole situation with accepting everyone. That Tissaia was involved in the murder of Mousesack's druid circle is headcanon but, well, what isn't in this story?

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone who wants to scream at me for making Geralt the god of the lesser evil, is welcome to do so but I suggest before you put me into fanfic writer punishment hell, you wait until the epilogue^^


End file.
